copper dreams and crimson stars
by XxZuiliu
Summary: In the ashes of a young man's funeral pyre, a little boy opens his eyes in a small country far to the east. A country in an entirely different world. [OC-Insert, AU]
1. 01: adrift, tender, gathering storm

Title: copper dreams and crimson stars

Rating: M

Summary: In the ashes of a young man's funeral pyre, a little boy opens his eyes in a small country far to the east. A country in an entirely different world. [OC-Insert, AU]

Warnings: Description of gore, violence, gender inequality, dark themes present. Be prepared for lots of AU ahead. Additionally, _certain views of characters portrayed in the story are not necessarily reflective of the author's beliefs, and should not be perceived as acceptable._

AN at bottom.

.

* * *

**copper dreams and crimson stars**

"_01: adrift, tender, gathering storm"_

* * *

.

The family name is _Sou._ A long, illustrious line of warriors and generals, the Sou are synonymous with the whispers of fearless wolves, spearheads of the emperor's vanguard. It is only natural. Ever since the empire's early founding days, scions of the Sou Family have always stood at the side of the heaven-blessed imperial line.

Fifty-two generations of devoted service, faithful and loyal until the very end.

Sou Ayumu is born the fourth of Great General Sou Shinshou's children, the first son of the fierce warrior known as the Wolf of Myo. Third male born unto the fifty-third generation of the Sou Family, first of the Main Branch's direct line.

The night of this long-awaited son's birth, tears well up and spill over the general's face when he reaches out with trembling arms to gently cradle his newborn child. These are not tears of sorrow, but of happiness; overflowing joy, upon finally having an heir, a son to call his own… after the consecutive births of three daughters over the past decade.

(Sou Shinshou loves his daughters, as much as any father in these times would love his girls, but it is duty and responsibility and obligation that drives him to want, no, _need_ a son, an heir of his own flesh and blood–)

"_Ayumu,"_ he whispers. Calloused fingers reach out to touch the infant's face, a soft, cautious gesture. Almost as if ascertaining whether or not the child is real. General Sou smiles. "Your name will be Sou Ayumu, and you will carry upon your shoulders the hopes and dreams of our divine emperor, our beloved people. It is your sacred duty, the duty that runs in our blood."

The child wails. _Screams._ An eerily strident, unnatural sound, more pain and confusion and abject terror, than it is the mindless cries of a newborn child.

General Sou chuckles warmly. "What a healthy set of lungs you have on you, child. Yes. You will grow into a fine young warrior one day, my son."

The man turns, passing the screaming infant to the midwife patiently waiting to the side. "Here. Take care of his needs, and see to it that you bring him to my honored wife when you have–"

"L-Lord General, _please!"_

A pause. Something shifts in the air, dangerous and unpredictable. General Sou turns to the pale-faced, shivering servant girl on the bed, a young lass whose face he does not remember, and her name even less.

Weak, frail, the young mother struggles to pull herself upright. She is unsuccessful; sapped of strength as her limbs are and nervous as the other servants have become of their lord's cold gaze, there is no one to help her when she tumbles from her bed, falling, collapsing onto the ground.

But still. _Still._

Silently, General Sou watches the servant girl force herself onto her knees, body folding into a proper, formal bow.

"I-I beg of y-you, L-L-Lord _General,"_ she cries. Sobs, sharp gulps of air taken in shaky breaths distorting her words into something only borderline coherent, _"P-please_ do n-not s-se-pa-_rate_ me f-from my _child!"_

Desperation. Despair. This he can see in the lines of her body, the tears in her eyes.

"Presumptuous," he says softly. The young servant girl's face blanches, her trembles only becoming more pronounced. But for all her fear, she bites her lip and prostrates herself before him on the ground, forehead pressed into the stone floor, once, twice, thrice–

Blood. The crimson color is stark against the gray stone. The servant girl is weak from birth, and bleeding from her head –and yet, she _does not stop._

"… P-please, General," the girl whispers. "I-I would not _dream_ o-of asking for… r-r-recognition, s-status, or _anything_ of th-that sort… please, just l-let me stay with my _son."_

_Son._

The general pauses.

_This is the woman who gave birth to my son._

She is… pathetic. Disgusting, sniveling on the ground, covered in her own blood. There is nothing particularly outstanding about the girl's features, nor anything memorable.

But for a single moment, Sou Shinshou thinks he might see why he had been attracted to this woman, even if it had been a momentary attraction through the throes of a drunken stupor.

"… gardening."

The girl jerks upwards, eyes wide. "W-What?"

"Gardening," the general says slowly. "Do you know how to take care of a garden?"

"I-I-… _yes!_ Yes, m-most certainly, Lord General!"

"Then, the Magnolia Court will be your responsibility from now on," he tells the servant girl. "… Do not make me regret this."

The girl's eyes _blaze,_ shining brightly. _"Never,_ Lord General. This lowly Kyou thanks you for your mercy and your generosity."

…

(During this byplay, their child lies to the side, forgotten. There is no one who listens to his screams. And no one will; not for a long, long time in these coming years.)

.

* * *

.

In the Magnolia Court of the Sou-_fu,_ lives a young woman known as Lady Rin Amake. Chestnut-brown hair cascading over her shoulders like a silken waterfall, flax-golden eyes the warmth of summer suns, she is an unmatched beauty whose name is known throughout the Myo Empire, envied by all, for aside from beauty–

Rin Amake is the one and only wife of the Great General Sou Shinshou, the Wolf of Myo.

A child of the Rin Family and the favored daughter of Minister Rin, the young woman's wedding to General Sou had been a grand affair, their union blessed with the well-wishes of Emperor Keitai himself. General Sou had been sixteen when he'd fallen head over heels for the beautiful young Lady Rin, and she for him in return. Over the years, their feelings for each other have only grown stronger, even against the myriad hardships they'd faced–

Or so she had believed.

"… Lord husband?" Amake is aware that she has led a charmed, pampered life. Her beauty, her family, her station and social status. Holding the affections of the Wolf of Myo. Very rarely did Amake ever doubt herself, but this–

_This–_

Her husband. Holding an infant in front of her. Awkwardly averting his eyes.

_The child is a boy._

Amake blinks. Something tilts, the world spinning around her, and the next thing she knows, she's lying down in her bed, her husband worriedly sitting beside her, his gaze full of concern, mouth tilted downwards in a frown–

–and his arms still full of sleeping infant.

Amake closes her eyes.

"I'm sorry for having disappointed you, my lord," she whispers. Something clogs in her throat, her chest twisting uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't bear you a son. I–"

"Enough," the general cuts her off roughly. "Amake, I love you. This will never change."

Fact. The surety in his voice grounds her, and the young woman lowers her head in shame.

"… Forgive me, Shou." _Forgive me for doubting you._

"There is nothing to forgive," he shakes his head. "If anything, the fault lies with me, for not having explained sooner. I… this is Ayumu. My son."

_As I thought. It's a boy. My lord husband's flesh and blood…_

_(But not mine.)_

"–be his mother?"

Shou's voice. Dazed by the news her husband had so unceremoniously delivered aplomb, Amake gives a small start, nodding instinctively, before the subsequent words finally register in her mind.

Will you be his mother, her lord husband asks of her.

Amake has thrice been unable to bear her husband any sons, relentlessly plagued by jealous whispers and dark condemnations alike for her failing –_can't even give birth to a son, yet she refuses her lord his right to take any concubines, such a useless woman! What a pity that such beauty is wasted on a greedy, shriveled black heart._

Ayura, Ayuri, Ayurin. Amake loves her three daughters, she truly does, what mother wouldn't love her children–

… And yet, there are still nights when she will cry herself to sleep, curse her stomach for being unable to birth Shou a beloved son, a son to inherit his duty, to succeed the family name.

Shou is not wholly unaware of the struggles that she faces, as a woman, but he doesn't understand. That's okay, though. Because he is the Great General, the Wolf of Myo, and though Amake is privileged and sheltered and weak, she is his _wife,_ the wife Shou chose, and it's the least she could do to ease her beloved husband's burdens where she can, whenever possible–

So–

Amake bites down on the ugly flicker of resentment, swallowing the bitter coil of betrayal into a secret pit deep inside her stomach. She doesn't deserve to feel this way in the first place. It's not as if it's Shou's fault that she cannot give him a son, is it? So… so the fact that he… sought _company,_ for the sake of continuing the Shou line of the main branch…

_It's fine._

Amake wants to laugh. Wants to cry. She ends up doing neither.

"If I may ask, my lord husband… who is the mother?" Her lips move on their own, automatic. Amake stares blankly at the child –the _son_– in her husband's arms.

"It doesn't matter," Shou responds, utterly oblivious to his wife's struggles, her subdued tenor. Now that she has agreed to raise the child as her own, he only has eyes for the infant again. "You are his mother. We have a son now, Amake!"

The young woman closes her eyes bitterly.

"… Yes. We do."

.

* * *

.

This is Ayumu:

A young boy, the son of the Great General Sou Shinshou and his beloved wife, the beautiful Lady Rin Amake. He grows up in a small country far to the east, a citizen of the Myo Empire, heir to the Sou Family.

… Lies, all of it. But at the same time, that's not entirely true, not really.

See, there are memories in his head that do not belong to him, disjointed flashes of a world that does not exist, from the perspective of a man who no longer lives.

… But Ayumu does.

_What does it mean to be alive?_

General Sou's son is a difficult child, they say. The boy wakes up at odd hours of the night, throwing fits and tantrums. He lacks discipline. Why, General Sou began his training the other day, and the boy refused to pick up his spear! The General had been _furious._ Sou men cannot afford to be lazy, soft, least of all the son of the one who is revered as the Wolf of Myo.

Ayumu hates it. All of it.

(The oppressive culture, the suffocating judgment, these unwanted attentions –he never _asked_ for any of this.)

… The General loves his children, but he is not a loving man, not even towards his daughters, much less the son he has such high hopes for. Lady Amake watches from afar with a cold eye. There is no one who understands him, who is willing to speak for him, and it does not take long for Ayumu to realize that no one ever will.

Weak as you are, helpless as you are, there is absolutely nothing you could do or say. You cannot change anyone else.

The only one you can change is yourself.

It's a bitter pill for him to swallow.

Anger festers and boils into bitterness, bitterness sours into resentment, and eventually resentment loses all meaning under apathy.

Eventually, the whispers surrounding him morph into something different.

General Sou's son is a gifted child, they titter and smile. He rises before the sun, and practices his stances deep into the night. He is a prodigy. He defeated his branch cousin Ayuto in a spar just the other day, didn't you hear? A boy two years his senior! It is good that the Wolf has a strong successor.

Everything is pointless, nothing matters. Ayumu trains and trains because it's easy to stop thinking when he does, easy to lose himself to the mindless flow of repetitive movements, again and again and again. Rinse and repeat. Practice makes perfect.

… It's almost meditative, in a way, and it's the only time he is left alone. The closest he can ever come to being at peace, under the general's eye.

"Young master? Please consider taking a break for now. The general will be leaving for the frontlines today, and I'm sure he would appreciate it if you were there to see him off."

A servant girl wrings her hands worriedly to the side. Ayumu does not bother turning in her direction.

"The general wishes for me to devote myself to my training," is all he says. Indifferent, voice monotone. _Hold, set, pierce._ The spear in his hands lashes out, stabbing. "… I will be there. Later."

The young boy retracts his spear, leaving a perfect hole in the center of his target.

"Please… please do not blame the general, young master. He means well."

"Your words," Ayumu clicks his tongue. "They would hold more weight if I did not see the general leaving your rooms the other night."

"I-I-I n-no, w-wha-t–"

"Kyou." At the sound of her name leaving his tongue, the flustered young woman abruptly falls silent. Ayumu eyes the skittish servant for a moment, then tries, _"Mother."_

Her eyes fly wide open in shock, mouth dropping–

Ayumu smiles.

… It's not a happy smile, more of a wry twist to his lips, more pity and self-mocking than anything else.

"This war with the Kou Empire," he tells her. "The general, my uncles and cousins –they are not the only ones who will be fighting."

Roundabout as it is, Kyou_ pales,_ instantly realizing the implications of the child's sing-song words, grave severity sharply contrasted against the high-pitched intonation that they are delivered in.

"Y-You're only _eight!"_

"… And who am I, to question the orders of the general, in his infinite wisdom?" Ayumu flicks his spear, the metal beneath his calloused palms warm against his fingertips. "I don't care. What's the worst that can happen?"

The young woman shakes her head. "You could _die!"_

"Yes," the little boy agrees gently, kindly. "I could die. And that's all there is to it."

.

* * *

.

…

.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Hi! Here, have another wild plot bunny, featuring an OC in _Magi. _It's kinda short. This is pretty much just a quick freewrite to get things flowing again, since I haven't written anything in quite some time. Am now in midst of job hunting, so… yeah, I'm not going to promise anything about update frequency. :v

Cheers, hope y'all are doing great out there!

-XxZuiliu


	2. 02: sever, ride, scattered tide

Title: copper dreams and crimson stars

Rating: M

Summary: In the ashes of a young man's funeral pyre, a little boy opens his eyes in a small country far to the east. A country in an entirely different world. [OC-Insert, AU]

Warnings: Description of gore, violence, gender inequality, dark themes present. Be prepared for lots of AU ahead. Additionally, _certain views of characters portrayed in the story are not necessarily reflective of the author's beliefs, and should not be perceived as acceptable._

AN at bottom.

.

* * *

**copper dreams and crimson stars**

"_02: sever, ride, scattered tide"_

* * *

.

It is quiet, mostly.

In the crisp chill of a cold, overcast morning, a pale sun peers blearily into the murky gloom, scattering faint hues of red and pink across the mostly-dark sky. There is a certain stillness in the air, a sort of unnamed tension that is difficult to pin down or put a label to. Yet, there remains no doubt that this eerie lull is directly linked to the strange energy surrounding the slumbering encampment itself.

For this particular encampment is one that numbers five-hundred strong, consisting of battle-hardened soldiers and blooded warriors under the command of the Wolf of Myo.

It is early, though, and most have yet to rise. The silence is only softly interspersed by the scattered sounds of sleep, the quiet whickering of horses, and the scant, stray rustles of nebulous movements far into the distance. Perhaps they belong to soldiers, to animals, to the wind in the grass –it makes no difference.

In a small clearing not far from where the troops have made their encampment last night, Ayumu repeats yet another _sweep-lift-turn_ with the spear in his hands. Clean execution, practiced and smooth.

(Genius, they say, but that's not quite true. Ayumu's skill is born through countless hours of repetition, and the only reason why he even spends all those hours in the first place is–)

"Working yourself to the bone when we are on verge of reaching the battlefield is beyond foolish."

A sudden voice cuts through the relative silence in the air, severe and disapproving. However, the rebuke slides off the black-haired boy's shoulders as easily as water does a duckling's feathers, for all the acknowledgment the young child gives those words. Ayumu nods, a near-imperceptible movement that is only a faint incline of his head and nothing else, then twists into one last _thrust-pull-hold,_ slowly drawing back the polearm to finish the practice form.

Behind him, General Sou clucks his tongue in sharp reprimand. "Are you deaf, boy?"

Ayumu straightens, sliding his spear into the harness on his back. Almost as if entirely oblivious to the disapproval lurking behind the older man's coal-dark eyes, he takes a respectful step back and bows, son to father.

(It does not matter that, to this day, the boy still remains perplexed by the complexities of respect and etiquette and propriety in this strange new world that everyone is assumed to know, and thus no one ever bothers to stop and explain. It's confusing and frustrating, but after eight long years of immersion, at least Ayumu has become proficient at mimicking the behavior that is expected of him, even if he still doesn't quite understand.)

"I apologize, lord father," he says simply, because a noble house's son must always show that he is obedient to his father, a soldier deferent to his general. He casts his eyes to the ground and does not look up. "It has become habit for me, to rise early and review my forms. But if it so pleases you, I will refrain from doing so for the remainder of the march."

The old general regards his son for a long moment in silence, anger slowly fading away. "… This is not about pleasing _me,_ son."

Isn't it? The thought springs to Ayumu's mind unbidden, and the boy quickly bites down on his tongue before the meaningless words escape his lips. In front of him, his lord father is already speaking again.

"You are young, so you do not understand. Consider this your first lesson of the battlefield: You must always be _prepared._ We are no longer ensconced within the safety of the capital city anymore. We are on our way to cross blades with enemies, with bloodthirsty soldiers of the Kou Empire. Tiring yourself out like this –just what were you hoping to accomplish here, exactly?" General Sou shakes his head. "A single morning of practice will not increase your skills in any meaningful manner. What if we were to be ambushed right now? Would you rather be well-rested and ready, or tired and weary from unnecessary physical exertion? Travel and tension already sap at a soldier's strength, why add to that strain?"

The soot-haired boy remains silent and does not answer. His father sighs, letting out a gusty breath. "You are not the only one with strong dedication to hard work, amongst the men of Myo. Why do you think you've never seen other soldiers up and about at this hour, pushing themselves as hard as you have been consistently doing these past several days? There are other, better ways of working off restless energy, in situations like these."

Ayumu… understands, somewhat. He understands where the general is coming from, and his words, born of experience, certainly deliver sound advice to an unknowing child's ears. It's not hard to see things from General Sou's perspective. As a father witnessing his son make juvenile mistakes, why would he not step in to correct them when he can?

Mentally, Ayumu might be far older than the age his physical body portrays, but when it comes to war experience, the boy easily admits that the old general has him beat by a _landslide._ The man has fought and bled and lived through more years of battle than Ayumu has been alive, both lives included.

He might have his fair share of misgivings about General Sou's… child-rearing tactics, his methodologies, but Ayumu cannot deny that the older man _means well,_ when it comes to his only son. Decision to drag an eight year old with him to a military campaign aside, that is. So…

"I understand, general," is all he says in the end. Tactfully, Ayumu mentions nothing about recurring dreams of non-existent worlds, of nightmares involving painful death and dark, suffocating silence. There is a _reason_ why Ayumu prefers working his body to the bone, rather than the silence of his own mind. But it does not stop him from appreciating his father's gesture, somewhat.

Part of his mixed feelings on this matter seem to come across to the old general somehow; the man sighs, and it's a weary sound. "You are far more clever and talented than I was at your age, my son. But that does not change the fact that you are still young, and there remains much for you to learn."

"Yes, lord father."

General Sou lifts his eyes. "… It is good that you understand. Now, come. We will be beginning the day's march soon."

The boy nods, and follows.

.

* * *

.

As the leading general, Sou Shinshou travels at the head of the vanguard, flanked by his commanders. Behind him follows the main army, the bulk of his soldiers, and the rear guard marches at the very back. Surrounding this massive formation are several mobile teams of scouts, constantly scanning and searching the road ahead, reporting back at regular intervals.

Horseback riding for prolonged periods of time is… not a pleasant experience. In the beginning, at least. As the son of a general, riding lessons had been par the course, but neither had the lessons themselves lasted for days on end with no end in sight. Ayumu has bruises in some very uncomfortable places as a direct result of this, but he's learning, adjusting.

(It's not as if he has any other options.)

Ayumu follows the march of his fellow soldiers somewhere around the middle of the main army. It had been somewhat of a surprise in the beginning, as he'd assumed the general would at least want to keep a close eye on his eight year old son, but also… not. No, he can't really say that he was surprised by the general's decision to throw his son in along with the rest of his soldiers.

"_You are a son of the Sou Family. You will either learn to stand on your own two feet –or not at all."_

… No, Ayumu isn't surprised in the least.

It does make him wonder, though, what the standard for _educating_ children in this strange new world is. If General Sou is harsh on his son simply because he has high hopes for him, or if this type of treatment is somehow considered to be the norm. Most of the men in the army look to be well into their twenties or thirties, but Ayumu has glimpsed several other midget-sized soldiers wandering around camp, too, and it's… confusing.

Until he overhears a conversation regarding drafting protocols, of conscripted soldiers, men sent forth from each family–

His cousins, he knows, are also stepping out onto the battlefield. Not with General Sou Shinshou, but with the great general's younger brother General Sou Shinyou instead. There is no draft forcing them to step forth; strictly speaking, under the drafting laws, neither Ayushu, Ayuto, nor Ayumu are required to march beneath the emperor's banner as soldiers of his army.

Nothing forcing them, aside the name they carry and the blood in their veins. The duty passed from father to son, the honor that the family has sworn to uphold.

(Ayumu doesn't _understand._ Not that it's ever mattered…)

_Sou._

As far as Ayumu knows, it's only the males of the family who are indoctrinated as such, groomed from birth to become the perfect fangs and claws to bare against Myo's enemies. General Sou has never paid much attention to the education that his sisters have received, leaving the girls' teachings up to the discretion of Lady Amake. The man seems content to play the alternating role of distant-doting father to his daughters, constant only in that he never breathes a word of military strategy nor martial training when the three girls are around.

"_Jealousy is unbecoming of a son of the Sou Family. Your sisters are yours to treasure and protect, not to entreat with petty envy."_

… The general is not a good father. One only has to look at his decision to bring his eight year old son onto the battlefield with him in order to realize that. Still, there's no denying that he _tries,_ and… in the end, that's all Ayumu could ever really ask for, isn't it?

The young boy's grip on the reins of his horse tighten, then loosen.

"Somethin' eating at your mind, kid?"

Ayumu blinks. "… You could say that."

The soldier riding next to him snorts. "You've been awfully silent, unlike the other brats running around. Relax, you're serving under the Wolf of Myo! Cheer up a little, son."

… Wolf of Myo, indeed. If only he could take comfort in that.

The man grins widely. "Trust me! It'll be fine, you'll see."

.

* * *

.

Trust me, he said.

It'll be fine, he said.

Just follow my lead, he said. This is my third battle, I know what I'm doing. You remind me of my son. Just stay close to me and I'll keep you safe, okay?

Ayumu roughly sloughs off the fleshy meld of blood and dirt and god knows what else splattered messily across his arms, spinning on his heel and _swinging_ his spear overhead in a wide arc. A child's strength, even a mildly talented one, is absolutely fucking useless when pitted against a grown man, and the force of the backlash from Ayumu's spear colliding against the enemy's own quite literally _launches_ the small boy into the air.

Which is just as well, given that it'd been what he'd been aiming for in the first place.

Ayumu lands clumsily, stumbles over the arrow-riddled corpse of the soldier who'd one-sidedly decided to take him under his wing, and ducks. It's more instinct than anything else guiding his movements right now, and he doesn't register that there had been an arrow aimed at his head until it lands, goring another hole into the still-warm corpse of the softhearted man beside him.

Seasoned soldier his _ass._

_You can't even protect yourself. Why did you try to protect me? … Just because I reminded you of your son?_

Ayumu rises to his feet –and abruptly dives for the ground again, biting his teeth down on a curse. Fucking archers, he'd heard older soldiers grumbling about the past few days. Now that Ayumu has had his own experience with enemy archers, he feels inclined to agree. _Fucking archers._ He hits the ground and _rolls,_ barely clearing all three arrows chasing him in close succession one after another, and he's pretty sure he's not imagining that ripping sound at the end, there.

Lightweight cloth armor more suitable for children? See if he's not going to shake someone down for at least a few armored plates if he makes it out of this place. _When_ he makes it out of this place.

Ayumu rolls into a crouch, spear sliding into his hands more from habit than any conscious action on his part, and –_there!_

A choked sound. A wet gurgle.

Ayumu had never much appreciated his lord father, in his infinite wisdom, forcing his son to learn how to hit his targets blind, even when he wasn't looking at them. More fool him, then, considering that it was only General Sou's teachings keeping him alive at the moment.

"Don't concentrate on the spears!" A man shouts, _screams_ somewhere in the not-so-far distance. "Someone just _get the fucking archers already!"_

Sounds like a great plan, Ayumu muses. The only problem is, who can actually get to the enemy archers in the first place?!

Breaths short and ragged, the young boy roughly yanks his spear out of his enemy's throat, ducking to the side to avoid having a larger, heavier corpse fall on top of him. He's not quite fast enough to avoid the resulting spray of blood, unfortunately –and something about this entire situation makes an entirely inappropriate laughter rise to his throat, sharp and hysteric, but…

"_Panic in midst of battle will get you nowhere. You must keep a level heart, and a level mind –everything else can come after the battle has ended."_

Sound advice, lord general.

Ayumu sucks in a deep breath, fingers clenching around the spear in his hands. It's too-warm and too-slippery, and the coppery tang of blood in the air makes him want to _scream,_ but–

_Why are we being attacked out of nowhere this is war he said we weren't there yet ambush AMBUSH this is Beiluo Pass how in the world–?_

Survive, first. Everything else comes later.

.

* * *

.

…

.

* * *

Author's Notes:

There will probably be a lot of inaccuracies and what not about the logistics and details regarding historical armies/battle/military and what not, since I only did a cursory lookup… that, and I'm not exactly a history buff by any stretch of the word. So, don't take anything too seriously or quote me on anything here, yeah?

Three guesses on how the war goes for Myo in the end, and the first two don't count. ;3

-XxZuiliu


End file.
